


Nemesis

by OiWatchItSpaceman



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Episode: s03e11 Utopia, Episode: s03e12 The Sound of Drums, Episode: s03e13 Last of the Time Lords, F/M, Novelization
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:15:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26581987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OiWatchItSpaceman/pseuds/OiWatchItSpaceman
Summary: A novelization of the series 3 Doctor Who finale. I hope you enjoy. :)
Relationships: The Master (Simm)/Lucy Saxon
Kudos: 4





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfic, so reviews and constructive criticism are welcome. This is rubbish and no one is going to read it, but if you do, I hope you like it.

My name is Martha Jones. I am 24 years old, my favourite animals are pandas, and I have recently qualified as a doctor. Although, when my bizarre story starts, I was only a medical student. You will probably remember the day the Royal Hope Hospital disappeared, as it was only a few months or so ago from when I am writing this now. To me, it feels like centuries. As you know, it vanished completely. The police and scientists were baffled, (understandably, they couldn’t work out how the rain had been going up- I still don’t properly understand) and, I have recently learnt, UNIT had to be called in. I met the Doctor, who was apparently a species of alien called a Time Lord (he had been disguised as a patient), and we defeated the criminal, blood sucking Plasmavore and the Judoon (intergalactic police) who were hunting her down. We both saved each, and the hospital was returned to Earth. He offered me to travel through Time and Space with him, in his ship named the TARDIS. It looked like a police box from the 1960s, but it was bigger on the inside and filled with advanced technology. We had many adventures, but the most memorable were meeting Shakespeare and fighting witches; visiting future New York and were saved from gargantuan traffic jam on a never-ending motorway (even worse than the M25 in rush hour) by a giant face, named ‘The Face Of Boe’, whose dying words were “You are not alone”; fighting Daleks, mutated, emotionless cyborgs in 1920 New York; defeating a manticore-like creature with my older sister Tish and some very loud organ music; saving a ship from crashing into an alien sun and trying to avoid being possessed by the latter. One of the most dangerous trips was to 1913, where the Doctor became a human school-teacher John Smith, because an alien family were trying to use his Time Lord life force to become immortal. He fell in love with the school nurse, Joan Redfurn and I had to be a maid for three months. To say I hated it is putting it mildly. We got stranded in 1969 because the weeping angels, who moved whenever you weren’t watching them and could send people back in time. The Doctor managed to get a message to a woman in the future, Sally Sparrow via DVD easter-eggs, and she had sent the TARDIS back to us. I had to work in a second-hand clothes shop, which was excruciatingly boring, but not as bad as being a servant. But this is the story of my craziest, most dangerous and, frankly, traumatizing adventure yet, and I honestly can’t believe I survived…


	2. Part 1- Utopia Chapter 1- An Unexpected Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own any of these characters or plots, and it's unlikely I ever will.

“Cardiff!” the Doctor grinned. Martha pulled a face. “Cardiff?” “Ah, but the thing is about Cardiff,” explained the Doctor, pulling a silver lever, “is it’s built on a rift in Time and Space, just like California and the San Andreas Fault, but the rift bleeds energy. Every now and then I need to open up the TARDIS engines and use it as fuel.” “So, it’s a pit stop?” said Martha, making her way round the mad-cap console. “Exactly! Should only take twenty seconds,” he frowned slightly, “the rift’s been active,” He glanced at the screen and suppressed a groan. Great. This was all he needed. Captain Jack Harkness, running towards the TARDIS. “Wait a minute. There was an earthquake in Cardiff a couple of years back. Was that you?” “Bit of trouble with the Slitheen. A long time ago. Lifetimes. I was a different man back then,” he replied, frantically trying to get Space-Time ship to speed up the refuelling process. Jack’s breath caught in his throat. There it was. The TARDIS. After a hundred years, it just stood there, an old wooden police box. He was so close. “Doctor!” “Finito! All powered up!” He wasn’t going to make it. The TARDIS was already phasing out, disappearing into a different time, or perhaps a different planet. Either way, it didn’t matter. Going, going, going- Jack launched himself at the wooden box. The console let out a shower of sparks accompanied by a loud banging noise. “Whoa!” gasped Martha, “What’s that?!” The Doctor grabbed the screen, dragging it towards him on its metal rails. “We’re accelerating into the future! The year one billion. Five billion. Five trillion. Fifty trillion? One hundred trillion!? That’s impossible!” “Why?” questioned Martha, gripping the side of the console to avoid being thrown off, “What happens then!?” The Doctor’s eyes widened. “We’re going to the end of the universe.” All of Time and Space hurtled past him in blinding colours as Jack clutched onto the TARDIS for dear life. Although, he reflected, as he past the year twenty billion, it didn’t really matter if he died, but if he let go, he might fall into the Middle Ages. Or Clom. He did not like the sound of either. The Doctor grimaced. “Well, we’ve landed.” “So, what’s out there?” Martha sounded apprehensive. “Don’t know,” he wished he did. He really, really did not like not knowing. Martha smirked. “Say that again. That’s rare.” The Doctor ignored her. “Not even the Time Lords came this far. We should leave. We should go. We should really, really go,” he gave a manic grin and raced to the door, his companion close behind. The first thing Martha noticed was how cold it was. There was no wind, the air completely still, but the temperature initially shocked her. The second thing she noticed was the darkness. It seemed to be pressing, clawing, closing in. She supposed it could be night-time, but there were no stars, not even a tiny pinprick of white, glowing light. The third thing she noticed was a body lying on the uneven, rocky ground. Martha stumbled to a stand-still. “Oh my God!” she bent over the man’s lifeless form and felt his wrist. “I can’t get a pulse. Hold on,” she remembered, “you’ve got that medical kit thing!” She leapt up and raced inside the TARDIS. “Hello again,” sighed the Doctor. “Oh, I’m sorry.” If Martha were still here, she would have called him crazy for talking to an unconscious person. She reappeared again carrying a box. “Here we go, get out of the way,” She motioned for the Doctor to move and knelt down beside Jack, “It’s a bit odd though,” she opened the medical kit, “not very hundred trillion, that coat’s more like World War Two.” The Doctor sighed. “I think he came with us.” Martha looked shocked. “How do you mean, from Earth?” “Must have been clinging to the outside of the TARDIS all the way through the Vortex,” The Doctor shrugged. “Well, that’s very him.” She looked even more shocked (if it were physically possible). “You know him?” He nodded. “Friend of mine. Used to travel with me, back in the old days.” Martha straightened up with an apologetic expression. “But he’s- “she took a deep breath, “I’m sorry, there’s no heartbeat. There’s nothing. He’s dead.” She glanced back down at the Captain and hastily disguised a scream as he sat up, gasping, and grabbed her arm. “Oh, so much for me,” said Martha, relaxing slightly, “it’s alright, just breath deep, I’ve got you.” Jack grinned. “Captain Jack Harkness and who are you?” The Doctor rolled his eyes. “Martha Jones.” “Nice ta meet ya Martha Jones.” “Oh, don’t start,” groaned the Doctor. “I was only saying hello!” whined Jack. Martha blushed. “I don’t mind.” She stood up and offered Jack her hand which he gratefully excepted, the Doctor deliberately avoiding the Captain’s eye. “Doctor,” said Jack coldly. “Captain,” Martha was shocked to hear that the usual warmth had dropped from his voice to. “Good to see you.” “And you. Same as ever. Although, have you had work done?” Jack eyebrows shot upwards. “You can talk!” “Oh yes, the face,” he indicated to himself, “regeneration,” He frowned. “How did you know it was me?” “The police box kinda gives it away,” Jack shrugged, “I’ve been following you for a long time. You abandoned me.” Martha glanced from the Doctor to Jack, hoping she would not have to break up an argument between the two of them. “Did I? Busy life. Moving on,” Martha noticed the Doctor was avoiding Jack’s eyes again. Jack had ignored the previous comment. “I just have to ask,” he started, “the Battle of Canary Wharf. I saw the list of the dead. It said Rose Tyler.” “Oh no!” the Doctor smiled, “She’s alive!” Jack’s face lit up. “You’re kidding me!” “Parallel world! Safe and sound. And Mickey, and her mother!” the Doctor was looking incredibly pleased, which surprised Martha: whenever he had mentioned Rose’s name beforehand, he had sounded sad, perhaps angry. “Oh yes!” Jack- who was looking ecstatic- hugged the still grinning Doctor. “Good old Rose,” muttered Martha, too quiet for either of them to hear her. The trio started to explore the seemingly deserted wasteland, devoid of plants or any other living things. The ground was rough and uneven, stretching out for what seemed like forever into the crushing darkness. It was completely silent, except for their footfalls, Jack telling his story and the Doctor’s occasional sceptical remarks. Martha did not like it. There was something unbelievably wrong about the place, yet she could not put her finger on it. “So, there I was,” continued Jack, “stranded in the year two hundred one hundred, ankle deep in Dalek dust and he,” he pointed at the Doctor, “goes off without me. But I had this,” he held up his wrist and pulled up the arm of his coat, revealing a leather band with a silver control panel. Martha looked confused. “I used to be a Time Agent,” Jack explained, “it’s called a Time Vortex Manipulator. He-" here, Jack jabbed a finger at the back of the Time Lord’s head again, “isn’t the only one who can time travel.” “Excuse me!” scoffed the Doctor, “that’s not proper time travel. I’ve got a sports car, you’ve got a space hopper!” “Oh, boys and their toys!” “All right,” Jack rolled his eyes, “so I bounced. I thought twenty-first century, best place to find the Doctor, although I got it a little wrong. Arrived in 1869, this thing burnt out, so it was useless,” he held up the Vortex Manipulator. “Told you,” mocked the Doctor. “I had to live through the entire twentieth century to wait for a version of you to coincide with me,” frowned Jack. “But that makes you…” Martha realised, “over a hundred years old!” “And lookin’ good, don’t ya think?” winked the Captain, “So I went to the Rift, based myself there ‘cos I knew you’d come back to refuel. Until finally I get a signal on this, detecting you and here we are,” he finished with a bright smile. “But the thing is,” said Martha, who could not help but take Jack’s side in this, “how come you left him behind, Doctor?” “I was busy,” this time, he did not meet either Jack or Martha’s eyes. “Is that what happens though, seriously? “asked Martha, “You just get bored of us one day and disappear?” “Not if you’re blonde,” smirked Jack. Martha threw her hands in the still air. “Oh, she was blonde. Oh, what a surprise!” “You two!” The Doctor span on the heel of his trainers looking extremely irritated. “We’re at the end of the universe, alright? The edge of knowledge itself, and you’re busy…” he searched for the right word, “blogging!” On top of a small ridge in the rubble, the Doctor stopped. He motioned for his companions to join him. “Come on!” Spanning below them, an eerie blue colour, were the remains of a city. Or at least, that was what Martha supposed it must be. It was down a ravine so deep she could not see the bottom, with latticed, stone walkways criss-crossing through it. Martha’s mouth fell open. “Is that a city?” was all she managed to say. “A city, or a hive, or a nest. Or a conglomeration,” mused the Doctor, “looks like it was grown. But look, there,” he pointed at the latticed structures, “that’s like pathways. Or roads. Must have been some sort of life, long ago.” “What killed it?” asked Martha timidly. “Time. Just Time. Everything’s dying now, all the great civilizations gone. This isn’t just night. All the stars have burnt up, fading away into nothing,” said the Doctor, answering her earlier question. “They must have an atmospheric shell,” proposed Jack, squinting at the jet-black sky, “we should be frozen to death.” “Well, Martha and I, maybe. You, Jack, maybe not,” Jack shot the Doctor a frosty look, which he ignored. “What about the people? Does no one survive?” Martha was trying to stop herself from sounding too desperate. “I suppose we have to hope that life will find a way.” “Well he’s not doing too bad,” said Jack, pointing at a man who was partly running, partly scrambling, and partly falling down a scree covered hill. He was wearing rags; Martha could not see anything that made him particularly hundred trillion. He was being pursued be a group of people- well, she assumed they were human. However, as the group got closer, Martha noticed (with a fleeting stab of horror) their teeth were sharp, canine even. The leader was screaming something that sounded like “Humans!” “Is it me, or does that look like a hunt? Come on!” The Doctor, Jack and Martha ran down from one of the raised pieces of land, with Jack laughing; “Oh, I missed this!” They ran in front of the man, who flinched. “It’s ok,” said Jack, trying to calm him, “I’ve got you.” “The – they’re coming,” he stuttered. Jack span around, pulling an old looking gun from his pocket and aiming it at the leading tribe member. “Jack,” warned the Doctor, “don’t you dare!” Jack pointed his gun in the air and fired three warning shots. The tribe stopped dead. “What the hell are they?” asked Martha, watching them in mild disgust. “There’s more of them,” gasped the man, “we’ve got to keep going.” “I’ve got a ship nearby. It’s safe. It’s not far, just over there,” the Doctor waved his hand in the TARDIS’ general direction. As the confident words left his mouth, more of the humanoid creatures appeared over the ridge, separating them from their ship. “Or maybe not.” “We’re close to the Silo,” suggested the man, “if we can get to the Silo, we’re safe,” “Silo?” the Doctor turned to his companions. “Silo,” nodded Jack. Martha raised her hand. “Silo for me.” They ran for about five minutes- the Doctor nearly spraining his ankle on a particularly large piece of rubble- with the creatures, whatever they were, close behind. They came to some metal gates with two figures flanking it. Although, Martha noticed, they were standing behind them, not in front. The man (who had introduced himself as Padra) was yelling to the guards: “It’s the Futurekind! Open the gate!” “Show me your teeth!” instructed the guard frantically, before repeating it twice more. “Show them your teeth!” gasped Padra, showing the guard his own. The trio bared their teeth at the guard. “Human!” he screamed. “Let them in!” The four of them fell through the gate, which had only been opened a fraction before the guards shouted “Close! Close! Close!” They fired their guns at the Futurekind, the bullets bouncing off the rubble. “Humans!” hissed the leader, “humani. Make feast.” “Go back! Go back to where you came from! I said go back!” yelled the one of the guards, thrusting his gun threateningly at the creatures. “You don’t tell him to put his gun down,” Jack pointed out. “He’s not my responsibility,” The Doctor muttered “Huh,” Jack laughed, “and I am. That makes a change.” “Kind watch you,” the Chieftain growled, “kind hungry,” they backed away, their torches turning into orange specks in the darkness. “Thanks for that,” the Doctor said to the guards. One of them nodded. “Right. Let’s get you inside.” “My name is Padra Toc Shafe Cane. Can you take me to Utopia?” Padra asked hopefully. “Yes sir,” the guard smiled mysteriously, “yes we can.”


	3. Part 1- Utopia Chapter 2- Professor Yana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything. Except a lot of books. And unfinished homework.

Deep inside the Silo, a communicator device buzzed. “Yes?” asked the Professor “What is it?” Atillo’s voice crackled through. “Professor, we’ve got four new humans inside. One of them is calling himself a doctor.” Professor Yana’s heart leapt. “Of medicine?” “He says of everything,” Yana could almost sense Atillo rolling his eyes. “A scientist!” Yana smiled. “Oh, my word! Just, just, Chantho,” his lab assistant turned around, “just, oh, I don’t know! I’m coming!” With that, he scurried out of the lab. Chantho sighed.  
Back in the Silo entrance, the Doctor was explaining what the TARDIS looked like (“It looks like a box, a big, blue, box. I’m sorry, but I really need it back. It’s stuck out there”), while Padra tried to find records of his family. “My family were heading for the Silo. Did they get there? My mother is Kistane Shafe Cane. My brother’s name is Beltone.” Atillo sighed. “The computers are down so you’ll have to check the paperwork. Creet! Passengers need help!” A blonde boy -who looked no older than eight- hurried forwards, carrying a clipboard. “Right,” said Creet, in a matter-of-fact tone, “what do you need?” Atillo turned back to the Doctor, Martha, and Jack. “A blue box, you said?” The Doctor nodded. “Big, tall, wooden. Says ‘Police’.” Atillo glanced at him with disdain. “We’ll be driving out for the last water collection. I’ll see what I can do.” “Thank you.” Creet grabbed Martha’s sleeve. She looked down. “Come on,” he said, tugging her with him. “Sorry,” Martha started, “but how old are you?” The boy regarded her reproachfully over his clipboard. “Old enough to work. This way.” After exchanging worried looks, the three of them followed Creet.  
The corridors were packed, full of people, either crouching on the floor on both sides or trying to make their way through without stepping on somebody’s fingers. Creet was calling out to Padra’s family. “Kistane Shafe Cane? Kistane Shafe Cane? Kistane and Beltone Shafe Cane? We’re looking for a Kistane and Beltone Shafe Cane!” Padra was calling out to, sounding increasingly worried as more people shook their heads. “The Shafe Canes anyone? Kistane from Red Force Five?” “Anyone? Kistane and Beltone Shafe Cane?” Anyone know the Shafe Cane family? Anyone called Shafe Cane?” Martha took in her surroundings. “It’s like a refugee camp!” she decided. “Stinking!” proclaimed Jack, wrinkling his nose. A strong looking man glared at him. He took a step backwards. “Oh sorry, no offence. Not you.” The Doctor was acting like a kid in a toy shop. “The ripe old smell of humans. You survived. Oh, you might have spent one million years evolving into downloads, another into clouds of gas, but you always revert to the same, basic shape. The fundamental human!” “Kistane Shafe Cane!” “End of the universe and here you are!” he grinned, “Indomitable! That’s the word, indomitable! Ha!”  
“Is there a Kistane Shafe Cane?” A woman sitting on the left-hand side stood up. “That’s me.” Padra’s face broke into a grin. “Mother?” “Oh my God, Padra!” He turned to his brother and hugged him. “Beltone!” Martha smiled. “Well, at least it’s not all bad news.”   
The Doctor had walked over to what appeared to be a door. “Jack, come over here and give me a hand with this!” he commanded. “It’s half dead-locked and I need you to overwrite the code.” Jack joined him at the control panel and started to fiddle with the buttons and wires. “Right! Let’s see where we are!” the Doctor slid open the door and stepped forwards, only to be pulled back again by Jack. If Jack had not been there, he would have fallen down the deep, echoing hole, which surrounded a gargantuan, cylindrical ship. “Gotcha.” “Thanks.” “How did you cope without me?” “Now that,” smirked Martha, “is what I call a rocket.” “They’re not refugees,” realised the Doctor, “they’re passengers.” “He said they were going to Utopia,” said Martha. “The perfect place,” the Time Lord guessed, “one hundred trillion years into the future and it’s the same old dream,” he turned to Jack. “You recognise these engines?” Jack shook his head. “Nope. Whatever it is, it’s not rocket science. But it is hot, though.” He slid the door shut. “Boiling,” the Doctor agreed, “but if the universe is falling apart, what does Utopia mean?” At that moment, a man rushed up to them. He pointed at Jack. “The Doctor?” he guessed. The real Doctor waved. “That’s me!” “Good! Good! Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good!” smiled the Professor, beckoning for the Doctor, the Captain and Martha to follow him. “It’s good apparently,” said the Doctor with a bemused expression.  
Unknown to anyone and hidden in shadow, a woman with pointed teeth growled. Soon. She thought. Soon, she would be ready.   
The three of them followed Professor Yana, picking their way through the many people. They came to a green door, and Yana entered a pin into the control panel, letting them enter. Martha’s mouth fell open, although she closed it again quickly. She did not want to be rude. The reason she was so surprised was the Professor’s lab assistant. She was humanoid, with blue-green skin and an elongated head. Below her mouth were a pair of mandibles, like a beetle. She had seen a little old lady that sucked blood with a bendy straw, a giant face in a jar and statues of angels that moved whenever you were not watching them, but this was still weird in Martha’s book. “Chan welcome Tho,” the alien greeted them. Yana led the Doctor to various pieces of equipment straight away. “Now, this is the gravitissimal accelerator. It’s past its best but it still works,” the Doctor slid on his glasses. “And err, over here we have a footprint impellor system,” Yana clapped his hands together. “Do you happen to know anything about end-time gravity?”   
Martha and Jack were chatting with the Professor’s assistant. “Hello,” smiled Martha, “who are you?” “Chan Chantho Tho,” answered Chantho. “Captain Jack Harkness.” “Stop it,” snapped the Doctor. Jack rolled his eyes. “Can’t I say hello to anyone?” If whatever species Chantho was could blush, she would have been scarlet by now. “Chan I do not protest Tho.” “Maybe later, blue,” winked Jack and walked over to join the Doctor. “So, what do we have here?” “And this all feeds into the rocket?” continued the Doctor, holding up a futuristic piece of technology. “Yes, except without a stable footprint, you see, we’re unable to achieve escape velocity,” while saying this, his expression was subdued. “If we could only harmonise the five impact patterns and unify them, we might, well, make it,” he looked up at the Doctor. “What do you think, Doctor? Any ideas?” “Well, err… basically…sort of…Sorry. Not a clue.” Yana’s face fell. “Nothing?” He shook his head. “I’m not from around these parts. I’ve never seen anything like it. I’m sorry.” “No no,” sighed the Professor, “it’s my fault. I’m sorry. There’s been so little help,”  
Martha sat down on an upturned crate and turned to her left. The large, black backpack Jack had been carrying lent against the makeshift table. Curious about what was in it, she undid the straps and dug her hand inside. Her fingers brushed against smooth, rounded glass. She felt around for something to help her lift it, as it seemed quite large. Martha found a plastic handle at the top and heaved it out. What she saw inside made her gasp and nearly drop it. As a medical student, this was not the first severed limb she had seen, but she had not been expecting this.  
“Oh my God!” she placed the jar on the table. “You’ve got a hand? A hand in a jar? A hand in a jar in your bag!” “But th-that’s that’s my hand!” spluttered the Doctor, who had turned around when he heard Martha gasp. Jack shrugged. “I said I had a Doctor Detector.” Chantho looked worriedly from Martha to Jack to the Doctor, then back to Martha again “Chan is this a tradition amongst your people Tho?” “Not on my street,” Martha eyed the hand cautiously “what do you mean, it’s your hand? You’ve got both your hands! I can see them!” “Err… long story,” the Doctor explained, “I lost my hand. In a sword fight. On Christmas day.” Martha thought she could not be surprised by the Doctor anymore. She was clearly wrong. “What? And you grew another?” “Err, yeah, I did,” he waved at her. “Hello!” “Might I ask what species you are?” Professor Yana walked over to join the still waving Doctor and thoroughly confused Martha. “Time Lord,” the Doctor stopped waving, “last of. Heard of them?” there was no recognition on Yana or Chantho’s faces. “Legend or anything? Not even a myth? Blimey,” he looked unimpressed, “End of the Universe is a bit humbling.” “Chan I am said to be the last of my species too Tho,” said Chantho sadly. “Sorry,” the Doctor glanced up, “what’s your name?” Chantho opened her mouth to speak, but the Professor got there first. “She’s my assistant and good friend Chantho, a survivor of the Malmooth. This was their planet, Malcassairo, before we took refuge.” “The city outside, was that yours?” questioned the Doctor. Chantho nodded subduedly. “Chan the conglomeration died Tho.” “Conglomeration!” the Doctor sounded triumphant. “That’s what I said!” “You’re supposed to say sorry,” hissed Jack. “Oh yes, sorry.” “Chan I am most grateful Tho,” Chantho smiled.   
Martha was still processing this new (and extremely weird) news about her friend. “You grew another hand?!” The Doctor waved. “Hello again!” Martha shook her head. “After all this time, you’re still full of surprises.” “Chan you are most unusual Tho!” giggled the humanoid alien.  
“So, what are those things outside? The beastie boys. What are they?” questioned Jack. Yana sat down. “We call them the Futurekind,” he explained, “which is a myth in itself, but it is feared that they are what we will become if we don’t reach Utopia,” “And Utopia is?” asked the Doctor, joining the conversation. “Come on,” scoffed the Professor, “every human knows what Utopia is. Where have you been?” “Bit of a hermit.” “A hermit with friends?” “Hermits united. We meet up every ten years and swap stories about caves. It’s good fun. For a hermit. So, err, Utopia?”  
Yana pulled a computer towards him and turned on the monitor. It showed a map with a red signal in the bottom right corner. “The call came from the stars, over and over again. Come to Utopia. Originating from that,” he pointed at the signal, “point.” “Where is that?” “Oh, it’s far beyond the Condensate Wilderness, out towards the Wildlands and the Dark Matter Reefs, calling us in. The last of the humans, scattered across the night.” “What d’you think’s out there?” “We don’t know. A colony, a city, some sort of haven?” suggested the Professor. “The Science Foundation created the Utopia Project thousands of years ago in an effort to preserve humanity, to find a way of surviving beyond the collapse of reality itself. Now perhaps they found it. Or perhaps not. But it’s worth a look, don’t you think?” “Oh, yes,” the Doctor grinned. “And the signal keeps modulating, meaning it’s not automatic. That’s a good sign someone’s out there. And that’s,” the Doctor pointed to a group of wires hooked up to some sort of device, “oh, and that’s a navigation matrix, so you fly without the stars to guide you,” it was then he noticed something wrong with the Professor. It was as if he had completely zoned out and had no idea what anyone around him was saying. “Professor? Professor? Professor?” the Professor’s head snapped back up. “I, err, ahem, right. That’s enough talk. There’s work to do. Now if you could leave,” he motioned towards the door. “You alright?” asked the Doctor, sounding concerned. “Yes, yes, fine. And busy.” “Except the rocket’s not going to fly, is it?” inferred the Doctor. “This footprint mechanism. It’s not working.” “We’ll find a way!” “You’re stuck on this planet,” he continued, undeterred, “and you haven’t told them, have you? Those people out there, they still think they’re going to fly.” The Professor sighed. “Well, it’s better to let them live in hope.” “And quite right too,” the Doctor smiled. “and I must say, Professor, err, what was it?” “Yana.” “Well Professor Yana,” Martha noticed the Doctor had that ‘I’m going to do something incredibly clever that’s going to save your lives or do something extremely stupid that’s going to nearly get us killed off’ expression on. (Martha sometimes did not know whether some of the things the Doctor did were genius or stupid. She supposed it was best that way,) “this new science is beyond me, but all the same, a boost reversal circuit, whatever the time frame, must be a circuit that reverses the boost. So, I wonder, what would happen if I did this?”   
He soniced the green cable and pulled it. Power shot through the machine and the entire structure lit up. Chantho gasped. “Chan it’s working Tho!” “But how did you do that?” spluttered the Professor. “Oh, while we were chatting away,” grinned the Doctor, “I forgot to tell you,” Martha knew what was coming next, “I’m brilliant!”


End file.
